So, here I am sitting in the rain swept Mud Isle, hatches firmly battened, sipping tea, humming Elgar Pomp & Circumstance and musing on Prince William’s impending nuptials when I get the message:
…….write a review…….Delaney Davidson…….Lugano……….El Presidente
Now, let’s get this straight from the off, as a child of a less than reverential generation, I would quite frankly rather dip my toes in cyanide and chew them off rather than defer to any president. Secondly, I can no more discuss the nuances of roots/blues guitar playing than can I discuss the finer points of neuro surgery. However, having graduated from the heaving, sweaty, Sub Popist music hellholes of the UK I know what I like. I liked Delaney Davidson. He is possibly one the best live performers I’ve seen in many a day. I also liked the venue.
Under the pretext of translator, if needed, for a Kiwi performer with a possible whiff of Scottish blood (Davidson: Scottish as porridge mate”). I am despatched in the dark across the Italian – Swiss border by the aforementioned President and his manly Director to an abandoned building. As most of life’s sweet events happen in abandoned buildings this bodes well. (Pres: ehhm….this is supposed to be about Delaney..) We are ushered through one dimly lit room into another totally dark room (I’m thinking this dark obsession is a Swiss thing) where we are met by the whites of the former Dead Brother’s eyes. A more fitting environment to interview this Master of Melancholy and Champion of the Disenfranchised is unlikely.
So what of the man? With some gentle prodding by the President, the manly Director’s valiant attempts at English and the help of some homespun Davidson yarns an essential guide is compiled thus:
Now, at this point I must confess, that so busy am I actually enjoying the music and the Ticino hospitality and unaware of my reviewer status that I fail to scribble down a set list. However, I can tell you that Davidson is a very charismatic performer; despite apparently starting his singing with his eyes shut (that dark thing again). The music is a bluesy-roots-contemporary-experimental hybrid that is at its best heard live. (The CD Self Decapitation has an excellent version of Ledbelly’s, In the Pines.) His developing act includes various opportunities for audience participation, first off, the dance competition. This involves Delaney putting his guitar on loop and dragging hapless members of the audience up to waltz with one another. The President needs no such coercion and manhandles me onto the dance floor. To my shame we win. A rabid dog and an inebriated goose could move better. (Note: tip for future gig goers – volunteer to dance and you will win.) This is following by the call – response, Dirty Dozen, only something seems to be slightly lost in translation with the Luganoian’s. If only he’d made us shout the “dirty motherfucker, old cocksucker” bits I’m sure there would have been more response. Some annoying crowd chattering overshadows the subtleties of songs like Tonight and Little Heart but by they end they are calling him back for an encore.
As we leave the building Davidson can be seen disappearing through the industrial wasteland into the dark. 100% Johnson I’d say.
Come in from the cold Sinner Friend.
…….write a review…….Delaney Davidson…….Lugano……….El Presidente
Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.
Now, let’s get this straight from the off, as a child of a less than reverential generation, I would quite frankly rather dip my toes in cyanide and chew them off rather than defer to any president. Secondly, I can no more discuss the nuances of roots/blues guitar playing than can I discuss the finer points of neuro surgery. However, having graduated from the heaving, sweaty, Sub Popist music hellholes of the UK I know what I like. I liked Delaney Davidson. He is possibly one the best live performers I’ve seen in many a day. I also liked the venue.
Under the pretext of translator, if needed, for a Kiwi performer with a possible whiff of Scottish blood (Davidson: Scottish as porridge mate”). I am despatched in the dark across the Italian – Swiss border by the aforementioned President and his manly Director to an abandoned building. As most of life’s sweet events happen in abandoned buildings this bodes well. (Pres: ehhm….this is supposed to be about Delaney..) We are ushered through one dimly lit room into another totally dark room (I’m thinking this dark obsession is a Swiss thing) where we are met by the whites of the former Dead Brother’s eyes. A more fitting environment to interview this Master of Melancholy and Champion of the Disenfranchised is unlikely.
So what of the man? With some gentle prodding by the President, the manly Director’s valiant attempts at English and the help of some homespun Davidson yarns an essential guide is compiled thus:
- Early musical influences were developed in utero by a Stones & Howlin’ Wolf obsessed father. Taken to first Stones concert at the tender age of 2 months.
- Shocked the original Grump Master, Lou Reed, by telling him that he had attended one of his concerts aged 5 years old at the height of Reed’s excess.
- Worked as a chef but was sacked after urinating on the bar at the height presumably of his own excess.
- Now lives an official ho-bo esque existence ricocheting between New Zealand and Europe performing with his Ghost Orchestra, i.e., himself.
- Collaborates with the redoubtable Swiss renegade Reverend Beatman. (Performs Beatman lament, Back In Hell, on current CD Self Decapitation.)
- Swears with Antipodean ease & lives by the motto: “Swear for a better Life.” (Performs Jelly Roll Morton’s Dirty Dozen on current CD Self Decapitation.)
Now, at this point I must confess, that so busy am I actually enjoying the music and the Ticino hospitality and unaware of my reviewer status that I fail to scribble down a set list. However, I can tell you that Davidson is a very charismatic performer; despite apparently starting his singing with his eyes shut (that dark thing again). The music is a bluesy-roots-contemporary-experimental hybrid that is at its best heard live. (The CD Self Decapitation has an excellent version of Ledbelly’s, In the Pines.) His developing act includes various opportunities for audience participation, first off, the dance competition. This involves Delaney putting his guitar on loop and dragging hapless members of the audience up to waltz with one another. The President needs no such coercion and manhandles me onto the dance floor. To my shame we win. A rabid dog and an inebriated goose could move better. (Note: tip for future gig goers – volunteer to dance and you will win.) This is following by the call – response, Dirty Dozen, only something seems to be slightly lost in translation with the Luganoian’s. If only he’d made us shout the “dirty motherfucker, old cocksucker” bits I’m sure there would have been more response. Some annoying crowd chattering overshadows the subtleties of songs like Tonight and Little Heart but by they end they are calling him back for an encore.
As we leave the building Davidson can be seen disappearing through the industrial wasteland into the dark. 100% Johnson I’d say.
Come in from the cold Sinner Friend.
Lynn.
